The Strange Tale of Apartment 2C
by jemisard
Summary: AU. Cid Highwind, landlord of Highwind Apartments, has a strange tenant move into room 2C, but it's the mysterious other occupant who really has his attention. Shounenai
1. 1

The apartment block was one of the nicer ones, as far as this end of the market went. The walls were in good repair, the neighbours civilised and not a vermin had been seen in the place for at least two years.

The apartment had gone up market when the place was bought by Mr Highwind. Everyone agreed that he was the best thing to happen to the district, even if he was a bit rough and tumble. He cleaned up the building, and the inhabitants, and managed the place unlike the previous landlord.

Cid Highwind was the only child of only children. No one knew much about him, not that he tried to be secretive. He was about as open and honest as they came, though a little abrupt at times.

It was the humble opinion of Ms Lockhart, who lived in 2A, that he was a bit odd. At thirty two there wasn't a girlfriend in sight, nor was there any sign that he was planning on finding one.

It was also her opinion that Mr Hojo, the prospective resident of 2C, was more than a little odd, and not in a particularly nice manner. But, Mr Highwind seemed happy enough with the new resident, and everyone trusted Mr Highwind, he was a practical sort.

0

"Well, rent's due every second Friday, but if yer havin' troubles drop me a line and we'll see if we can sort something out." Cid put down his end of the couch and nodded slightly. "No repaintin', change the curtains if yer want, no loud noises after midnight, Saturday and Friday exempted." He scratched his head and pulled a cigarette from behind one ear and spun it in his fingers. "No smokin' in the halls, what yer do in here is yer business. No drugs, blanket rule, no shootin' pornos and no criminal stuff."

Simon Hojo nodded and pushed his glasses up his nose again. "Certainly, Mr Highwind. That all sounds quite reasonable. I, ah, have some experiments, harmless things, you understand. Those are fine?"

Cid shrugged. "No noise, no chemical explosions, no criminal activities. So long as yer stickin' ter that, sure."

Mr Hojo nodded again, long hands wrapping around each other. "Yes, yes, Mr Highwind. I can assure you that I have a clean record."

Cid nodded, though he only just managed to suppress the shiver that tried to run down his spine. "Right, well, you get your deposit when you move out. I'll be seeing you in a fortnight."

He hurried out, closing the door behind him. He moved to his own flat, on the top floor, and lit up his cigarette with a deep sigh. Something about that man just was not right.

0

The first two weeks passed easily. Cid collected the rent on Friday, he was a little dubious about the strange smells, but no one seemed to mind it, so he didn't bother to mention it.

The next couple of weeks passed by. Hojo settled in, all his neighbours remarked on how quiet and unobtrusive he was. Mr Wallace of 1B found him to be very helpful when Cid wasn't available. Kind Mr Hojo agreed to help his one armed neighbour put up a partition in his daughter's room.

Mr Strife and his friend remarked to Cid about how nice Mr Hojo was to them. He often enquired on their health and wellbeing, even if they only saw each other in the hallway.

Ms Lockhart remained a little reserved, but even she had to comment on how kind he was. She was, however, still concerned about the odd little noises she heard on occasion at night.

Still, a month passed, followed by another, and there was really nothing that you could fault Mr Hojo on. Even Cid himself had to admit that his concern seemed to be irrational.

0

It was the sixth rent collection that was slightly different. Cid had been around the first floor and had been past Ms Lockhart and Ms Gainsborough, neither of whom was home at the time. He knocked on the door, surprised that no one answered. He was sure he could hear someone in there.

He knocked again, louder, tugging off one work glove to rap clearer. "Mr Hojo? Mr Hojo, it's Cid."

No answer came. Concerned, he pulled out his keys, flicking through them to find 2C. He was about to push the key into the lock when the door opened to reveal Mr Hojo in a bathrobe. He smiled apologetically. "Sorry, didn't realise you were in the shower."

Mr Hojo shook his head and opened the door, gesturing Cid inside. "Please, come in. I'll go get the rent."

Cid stepped in, almost reluctant to let the door swing shut behind him. He looked around the apartment, it certainly seemed little different, but there was a dark atmosphere that Cid wasn't sure he entirely liked.

Mr Hojo disappeared into the bedroom, and he could hear the noise of rummaging through the drawers. The door opened and Cid found himself turning to look.

His eyes caught something. Long white back, perfectly sculptured shoulders and dark tresses cascading around them. Hojo shut the door, snapping Cid's attention back to reality.

"Mr Highwind? Are you quite alright?"

"I... who was that? That woman?"

Hojo's face darkened slightly. "Woman?"

"With the black hair. I saw her in the bedroom."

"Oh." He coloured slightly. "That's my girlfriend. She's very timid, she doesn't like strangers. Should I have mentioned her earlier?"

Cid shook his head with a wry grin. "No, never mind. It doesn't change anything." He tried to hold the smile a bit longer. "That the rent?"

The money was pressed into his hand and Hojo glanced back to the bedroom. "If you'll excuse me, Mr Highwind, I have pressing matters."

Cid nodded and showed himself out.

0

A few long weeks passed. Cid found that his thoughts were being haunted by the vision he had seen in room 2C. He tried to picture the face that went with that beautiful form, soft lines and graceful curves accentuated by her pose.

A vision. Simon Hojo's girlfriend.

His absentmindedness had been remarked upon by several of the people who lived in the apartment block. Mr Strife and his friend (who seemed to live there) had asked him several times if everything was okay. He didn't know how to say what it was, that he was hopelessly in love with a woman who he didn't know, belonged to another man and he had never seen.

It was crazy.

He knew how she would look, how she would be. Long dark hair, but pale skin, so she would have refined cheekbones, long lashes to lie against them. Her lips would be pale red, delicate and pouty, but not petulant. She would be demure, gentle, quiet, but not passive. She would be intelligent.

He couldn't see her eyes They were large, gentle, wide, but he didn't know what colour they were. No colour was right. Blue was too sweet. Green was too wild. Brown was too plain. Black was too dark.

It was driving him wild.

Almost without meaning to, he was dropping by a little more often, always willing to help. Not that he was ever unwilling, but he found that he was at the apartment a lot more.

Yet he never saw her. That vision stayed nothing but memory, one that he was beginning to doubt he ever saw.

Two months dragged by, and Cid was giving up hope. He figured that she must have been terrified by his visit those months ago and would not come out again.

It was Friday. He stopped by Mr Strife's, then Mr Wallace's place where he was convinced to stay and play with Marlene for a few hours. The Canyon, as 1C was called, was empty but the money was under the mat and Ms Gainsborough of 1D insisted that he come in and help her pick a place for her new painting on the wall.

The second floor was less eventful. Ms Lockhart was considerably less chatty than normal, handing over her rent silently. Ms Kisaragi was also out, probably with Nanaki, (last name unpronounceable), the hippy who lived in the Canyon.

That brought him to 2C. He knew that someone was in, he could hear movement inside. He knocked and waited patiently.

No answer came for a long time. He was about to knock again when the cracked open, chain still on. "Yes?"

The voice was a whisper, nothing more. He could barely it. "Mr Hojo? It's Cid."

"He's not here." Was whispered.

Cid's heart caught. She was here. This was her, just on the other side of the door, a breath away from him. "I, uh, I'm here for the rent, miss."

The door closed, but the jangle of the chain did not follow. Silently, she must have moved away and back, because when she opened the door a little, a pale, elegant, perfectly manicured hand held out a bundle of notes.

He took it, their hands brushed ever so slightly. He nearly dropped the money, fumbling for a second and thanking everything he could think of that he had taken off his gloves. She must have nodded, long curls of black came into view briefly.

"Thank you, miss...?"

"You're welcome," she whispered, and she closed the door slowly.

Cid stood there for long moments before he trudged back upstairs.

0

The moment played on Cid's mind for the next two weeks. He saw Mr Hojo after that, spoke to him on occasion, but he couldn't help wondering how a man as... odd and, well, creepy, as Simon Hojo had managed to coax such a timid and beautiful creature.

Everyone in the apartment block recognised the signs. Wandering the corridors with a dopey grin, absently agreeing to do things and not remembering the conversation, not eating right, Cid has a crush. He was truly besotted with the pale skinned, dark haired girl who hid behind the doors of 2C.

He eagerly anticipated rent day, feeling as though he was walking on air when he dropped by 2C at long last, knocking on the door gently.

Simon Hojo opened the door. "Yes? Oh, Mr Highwind, come in, I'll go get the rent."

Cid stepped in, a little disappointed but ready to smile when Simon turned back with the money. "How is everything, Mr Hojo?"

"Good, very good." His eyes flickered to the bedroom. "This is a delightful block. Everyone is very, polite. Private."

Cid knew a hint when he heard one. He smiled, thanked the man and left, heart falling as he closed the door behind him.

0

Another fortnight passed. Thursday was, as usual, uneventful for Cid. It was a bad night on television, so he'd normally settle for wandering the block, looking for things to patch up until it grew late, when he'd retire to bed early.

Tonight was going to be no different. He had just done some repairs to the back up generator in preparation for winter blackouts and was washing off his grease stained hands in the sink when the doorbell rang.

Confused, he dried his hands, walking over. No one used his doorbell, most of the time it wasn't working anyway, everyone knew to just knock. He sighed as he opened the door. "I don't give to charity, and whatever you're selling I've..."

His voice caught as the figure came into view. Long skirt trailing on the ground, gloved hands clasped, dark hair falling around her face as she looked demurely the ground. He couldn't speak, couldn't even move as she glanced up ever so slightly, eyes still hidden by the flowing locks but small pouty mouth visible as she spoke in her whisper voice. "May I come in, My Highwind?"

He nodded, stepping aside for her. Her slightly heeled boots clicked on the wooden floors, Cid was taken aback by how very tall she was. She had to be a good six feet tall out of her boots. He closed the door, taking the time to watch her whilst her back was to him.

Long black hair, beautifully black, reached mid back. Her shirt was long sleeved, it looked like silk, a pale blue colour. The skirt was dark navy, pinched in at the narrow waist with a belt. Her body was slim rather than curved, but it was still beautiful, maybe more so.

He shook his head, hurrying over. "Please, miss, take a seat. Can I get you a tea or something?"

"No, no thank you." She still didn't look at him. "Simon sent me to speak to you."

Her voice was still little more than a whisper. Cid found himself leaning in to hear her, caught a scent of something that he couldn't place but smelt wonderful anyway. "Well, how can I help you?"

She looked away, exposing a long line of pale throat. "We can't make the rent this fortnight."

He nodded and smiled slightly. "Ah, I see."

She turned back to him, face still down turned, but he could see hints of a blush on her fair cheeks. It confused him, until she whispered, "Simon wants me to sort it out with you."

He glanced around, trying not to look at the sweetly innocent girl on his couch, hands clasped and cheeks red. "Well, you can pay me when you get money, I don't mind. So long as you have it be next week."

"No." She stood up, walking over to him, standing close. "Simon wants me to sort it out now. He knows that you find me attractive, Mr Highwind."

Her voice was so quiet he could barely hear her at only a foot away. Her cheeks burnt with embarrassment and humiliation as one gloved hand reached out and touched his collarbone, tracing down his sternum.

Anger flared in Cid as he caught her hand. Gentle in his rage, he moved her hand away and let go, cheeks going a similar colour. "He, sent you up here to whore yourself to me for the rent? His girlfriend? His own fucking girlfriend?!"

She stepped back, almost tripping on her skirt hem. He looked back, eyes going soft. "I'm sorry, miss, I'm not angry at you. Please, don't be scared, I ain't able to hurt a fly." He looked down, already embarrassed at his outburst. "I just hate to see someone abuse a lovely young thing like you, miss. Ain't right, you deserve a lot better than that."

She sat down again, he tentatively sat opposite her. Her hands twisted over each other, silk gliding over like, he watched for a moment. "I'm sorry, miss. I really am. I just don't feel it's right."

She looked up at him, a soft smile playing on those pink lips. Her cheeks were as perfect as he knew they would be, skin porcelain white, lashes dark and long.

Her eyes remained shadowed by her long fringe, but it was enough. Cid was lost.

He stared.

Finally, she shifted slightly. "Mr Highwind?"

Her voice was a little stronger now, he could hear the rich tones that the whisper hid. "Yeah?"

"Is something the matter? You looked a little lost."

He could listen to that voice all day. Soft and deep, but not disturbingly so. "No, not at all. Just that yer the most beautiful creature I ever laid eyes on."

Scarlet flushed over her cheeks, it was adorable. She ducked her head, dark hair falling to hide her from him. Almost unbidden he knelt on one knee in front of her, his hand reaching out to cup her face, trying to pull her back up to look at him.

Her gloved hand closed around his wrist, her grip suggested a hidden strength. "You don't want to do that, Mr Highwind. Some things are best left hidden."

Surprised, he let go, sitting back on the seat. "I, I'm sorry. How about a cuppa?" Anything to move away whatever strange thing happened when she touched his wrist.

"Yes, thank you. Black, no sugar."

He moved to the kitchen, mind in turmoil. She was here, she had been about to sell herself to him for the fortnightly rent. How could she? How could he be tempted by it? Turning her back had taken no thought, but part of him wanted her. He could not deny how beautiful she was, sitting out in his lounge room like she belonged on a throne.

He made the tea and brought it out, gently pushing it into her hand. She seemed to be mildly shell shocked, he wasn't really that surprised. "So, um, miss, why were you going to do it?"

She didn't answer, just turned her face into her cup, inhaling the scent as though it would make the question go away. He watched her, studied every little gesture and committed it to memory.

She glanced at him, and he blushed faintly. "Sorry. Bein' rude again."

"What were you thinking, Mr Highwind?"

"Call me Cid. I was thinkin' that I'm going to kick that rat Hojo into next week fer doin' this ter a girl like you."

The moment his name was uttered, she paled. Her hand trembled, she set aside the cup before it fell from her fingers. "No. Mr Highwind, please, you can't say anything to Simon. Please, he would be so upset."

His eyes narrowed, she must have taken it as refusal. She fell to the floor, hands clasping his. "Please, just give me a few days. I'll pay you, he doesn't have to know."

Cid's hands went to her elbows, he picked her up off the floor, surprised at her unsuspected weight. "Don't worry about it," his mouth said before he thought. "I don't want to make life hard for you. Just half will do this fortnight."

She smiled, genuinely this time, and if he hadn't been lost he would have been with that smile. "Thank you, Mr Highwind."

"Ah, call me Cid." He looked away, scuffing his feet. "You'd probably best go... though, would you like to come up here for tea tomorrow?"

She shook her head, hair flicking softly. "I can't. But, if you come by next Thursday, at one, we can have lunch. Is that okay with you?"

He nodded, mouth dry. She turned to the door, opening it quietly. She was about to step through when he found his voice. "Miss! What's yer name?"

She looked over one shoulder and flicked her hair from her eyes. He gasped, they were the colour of good wine, rich and deep red. "Valentine. Good night, Mr Highwind."

She closed the door.

to be concluded...


	2. 2

The week couldn't pass fast enough. Every minute of every day dragged by at snail's speed and then, without warning, it was Thursday morning and Cid had two hours before he was due at 2C for lunch.

He'd showered, shaved of all miracles, and was sitting on his bed staring at his wardrobe. He was the first to admit he wasn't really fussed about his appearance, and suddenly he was wishing he was.

Everything was marked, stained, ripped, patched or so old it just might fall apart. Nothing in there looked like it would match up to the simple elegance of Valentine.

Valentine. She had a name. A name that meant love.

He shook his head. Talk about sentimental and sappy.

Finally, he dragged out a pair of pants that had only one grease mark on the hip and a shirt that wasn't too bad if you didn't look too hard around the waist. His boots had to do, he didn't actually own another pair of shoes.

The clock read as five to one. He didn't want to be late, or early, he paced the living room, watching the seconds click by.

He rubbed his hand on his chin and cursed when he felt stubble that had eluded the razor.

One minute. No time to go and try to get rid of it. He rushed out the door, locking it behind him, and almost fell down the stairs in his hurry.

His watch had just clicked to one o'clock when he knocked on the door of 2C.

Movement, and the door opened slightly. One burgundy eye saw him and the door closed over, the chain rattled and he was gestured in by a slim hand, still in a long glove. "Please, come in Mr Highwind."

He stepped in, the door was closed behind him. "You can just call me Cid, Miss Valentine."

She stepped around him, smiling faintly. "I will call you Cid if you will stop calling me Miss."

She was dressed in a long black skirt with a soft white blouse. Her hair was braided, but strands were loose and falling around her face. Cid swore she wore no makeup, though that colouring could not be natural.

"Cid? Are you alright?"

He looked up at the concerned red eyes. "Yeah. Just thinkin'. Sorry."

She coloured faintly, remembering what he had been thinking about the last time she had asked him. She led him out to the kitchen, he was surprised by the complete lack of femininity out here.

"Please, take a seat. I was just finishing the cooking."

He sat down hesitantly, glancing around at the small changes. Herbs and spices sat alongside chemicals, something was over a fire, it was green and bubbling.

Valentine came over with a bowl of steaming soup. She sat it down, laying out a bowl at each end and a soup spoon. "It's homemade ham and pea with some spices for flavouring. I hope it is alright."

Cid carefully served them both, ladies first, nodding to the gothic woman. "Certainly. I don't often eat homemade. Not such a good cook really."

She smiled and brushed back her fringe. "I'm not really a good cook, I just know enough to get by."

He nodded and waited for her to start before taking a mouthful. It was hot, but undoubtedly delicious. "This is very good. Mr Hojo is lucky to have someone like you."

Her spoon hit the bowl, splashing soup. He looked at her, frowning with worry, but she had already grabbed a cloth and was cleaning up the splatters.

"Valentine? Did I do something wrong?"

"Can we, not talk about him?" She looked at him with sad eyes. "He's all I hear about in here. Why not talk about you? How did you come to own this place?"

He looked back down at the soup, eating a little more while he thought of the right answer. "I got a payment from the air force. I was injured in the service of my country, they gave a medal and stuff and a payment and let me go. I used it to buy this place."

He hadn't told anyone that before. About his old job, about the medal or the discharge. Valentine nodded, sipping at her soup slowly. "What did you do, with the air force?"

"I was a pilot. I started as a technician at nineteen, moved into the piloting ranks by twenty one, discharged with full honours at thirty one."

"How old are you now, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Thirty two." He smiled and looked down at the nearly empty bowl. "I was planning on selling this place when I bought it, but I kinda got fond of it. Got fond of the people, ya know."

"I can imagine. Would you like more?"

He looked up at her softly smiling face. "Yes, thanks."

They chatted comfortably for a while. In the progress of their conversation, Cid found that he had coughed up nearly everything that hadn't spoken about for years, from his parents' death in the train crash to his friend who died when his engine exploded in her face.

Valentine never judged, never spoke at the wrong time and never offered unhelpful and unwanted advice. She patted his arm softly on occasion, laughed at a particularly funny story and fetched them drinks.

Finally, Cid had presence of mind to check his watch. It read five to six. "Err, much fun as this has been, Valentine, it's nearly six."

Her face paled. "Oh no. I'm afraid you have to go, Cid." She stood up, hands twisting around each other. "Simon'll be home soon, I have to get dinner ready."

He nodded and stood up, letting her hurry him out. "Maybe next week you could come for lunch?"

She smiled sadly. "I can't leave this apartment, Cid. Don't ask me why, just accept that I cannot. But, I would like it if you came down here, like today. I had a nice time, it was," she paused and smiled at him, "lovely."

He nodded as she closed the door between them.

0

Friday was dull and lifeless. Cid collected the rent from everyone, stopped to chat when invited but his mind wasn't there. He was caught on Thursday afternoon, spending those five hours with Valentine, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He stomped up to his own apartment, shutting the door a little harder than was really necessary. He dumped his jacket and boots, kicked the heater to start it and pulled out his dinner, almost throwing it into the oven.

Did Hojo sit and talk with her? She had sounded so lonely, so pained. She was obviously desperate for company, except she wouldn't leave that apartment.

Why? Was she scared of unfamiliar places?

Was she scared of being alone with him? Obviously not, but maybe in an unfamiliar place.

Except... she had come up here. But Hojo had made her.

He felt anger rise in him. Hojo didn't deserve someone as beautifully sweet as Valentine. No one had the right to make her hurt.

He sat down to his dinner alone.

0

The routine was set. Every Thursday, at one o'clock, Cid would go down to Valentine's. Sometimes he brought her a flower or a small box of sweets; she had a particular fondness for licorice. Every Thursday they had a home cooked meal and then sat in the living room chatting until five to six, when he would leave.

Two months they did this. Two months for him to learn things about her, things that amazed him but made him wonder.

She used to work. For the government no less, though what she did he wasn't sure. She wouldn't leave the apartment; Hojo even did the shopping for them. She obviously wasn't happy with their relationship, she stopped calling him Simon and referred to him as Professor Hojo when Cid came around. She always wore gloves, even as the weather turned fair and the heat must have been uncomfortable.

She was hiding a great many things, and he knew she wanted to tell him. Her eyes shone with a hopeless whim that she never voiced.

On the ninth week, Cid took her by the hand, kissed it gently and asked her to consider leaving Hojo. He told her he didn't care about her secrets, didn't care that she was unable to leave those rooms. He asked her to leave, for her own sake.

She smiled that sad smile and pressed a finger on his lips, looking down to avoid his gaze, and he knew she was saying no.

That never stopped him asking.

She never accepted, but the next week, when he came with a rose and the same request, she always let him in and they would pretend for a few hours that nothing was wrong.

It was their thirteenth meeting. Cid had given up dressing up and so had she, though her casual was still as elegant as ever. He looked at the rose on the table, his hands were trembling.

Until now, he had given her a single yellow rose each time, its petals spread wide. This time, he had changed.

They both felt the same. He knew it, she knew it. He was sick of hiding it.

At five to, he grabbed the rose and headed downstairs, knocking on the door. She opened it within seconds, smiling face strengthening his resolve. "Cid, come in."

He stepped in and handed her the red bud. She took it slowly, smile fading. "Cid? Do you know what this signifies?"

He nodded and took her hand. "Yes. Valentine, I love yer, yer know that. I know yer feel somethin' fer me, I can see it." He pressed her hand to his chest. "My heart races every time I see yer, every time yer smile. I hate seein' yer so miserable with him. Please, move outta here. Move in with me, even if only while yer find a place to stay."

She lowered her face, moving the bud to stroke her cheek. He saw a drop run along the petals, crystal clear. "I can't, Cid."

"Yer can. He ain't gonna lay a hand on yer, not if I can stop him."

"I have secrets, Cid. Secrets that change things."

He shook his head, pulling her face up to look at his. "No, that don't matter. I don't care. I know who yer are, inside. Yer secrets can stay yours. I want ter help yer get out. If we can't be anything," he took a breath, "I can live with that, so long as he isn't hurting you."

She bit her lip. "I... come and have lunch. Don't talk about this, not now."

He nodded and followed her out to the kitchen.

0

The time passed quickly, and before either of them realised it, it was heading for six. Cid sighed and looked at Valentine, he was still holding her gloved hand in his bare one. "I gotta go in a few minutes."

"Yes." She looked up at him, a strength and resolve gleaming in them. "Yes."

He looked around the room and back at her. "Huh?"

"Yes, I will leave him." She nodded and stood up, skirt swirling around her. "I am going to leave him." She turned back to Cid, and he knew something wasn't right, but he couldn't place why. "Tomorrow. You can help me, can't you? If you help, we can pack all my things and move me out of here tomorrow, before he gets back from work."

Cid was smiling so wide his face hurt, but he didn't want to stop. "Course I can. One?"

"Two," she corrected. "He stays home for rent collection then leaves for the office. He will be there until seven or eight. After the rent, after he goes, we can move then."

She looked alive, more than he had seen before. He grabbed her hands, they stood there, smiling at one another. He wanted to kiss her, so badly, but she pushed him to the door. "You have to go, the professor will be here soon, you have to go."

He let himself be pushed out and made his way up the stairs in a daze.

He never saw Hojo watching him.

0

Friday came about fast. Cid collected the rents, oblivious to almost everything but the idea that Valentine would finally be getting out from under Hojo's restraints at last. He was polite to the professor, taking the rent and trying not to grin like an idiot as he though of Hojo losing what he had never deserved to begin with.

It was only a matter of waiting the half hour for Hojo to leave for work before he raced down to the flat. He knocked softly and waited.

No answer came.

He frowned and knocked louder.

Nothing.

That wasn't right. He waited a few minutes, growing ever more agitated, then knocked loudly.

When no noise was heard he pulled out his keys, flicking through them until he found the one labeled 2C. He slid the key into the lock, turning it and opening the door slightly.

The chain wasn't on, which was useful but worrying. Valentine always put the chain on, she was scared of someone coming in for some reason.

He heard a noise in the bedroom. He called out to her, quietly, but there was no reply. He walked over, heard a muffled voice and then a cracking noise.

He opened the door and peered into the room, jaw falling slack as he looked.

Hojo was wearing his lab coat, but red splattered it. He held a cane in one hand, the source of the cracking doubt no doubt.

Valentine, what he presumed was Valentine, lay on the bed. A gag was shoved in that pretty mouth, red eyes over spilling with tears. The normally gloved hands were tied to the bedposts, wrists red with struggling and Cid could see the ugly scarring that marked the left arm, all the way down to the very flat and very masculine chest. The chest was attached to a very naked and very male stomach and, he was not looking there.

Valentine wasn't she at all.

Cid saw her, no, his eyes turn and see him. They were wide with terror, and he remember how much joy he had seen in them, even as his heart broke with the betrayal of her secret.

He picked up the vase and dashed forwards, bringing it down on Hojo's head with a sharp smash. The professor crumpled to the ground and Cid looked at him, dropping the broken base.

Valentine, except he wasn't Valentine, looked at Cid mournfully.

A thousand thoughts rushed through. He was straight. He was hopelessly in love with a sweet charming woman named Valentine.

Except that wasn't true.

He strode forwards and pulled out his pocket knife, sawing through his restraints. The pale arms fell bonelessly, he carefully made sure that he didn't get hurt any further. Cid undid the gag, throwing it away and smoothing back Valentine's hair.

The face that suddenly made sense as not quite right was bewildered. "Aren't you... angry?"

"A bit," Cid agreed. He put on arm around his shoulders, his own going around the thin waist.

"Do you, hate me?" He whispered, that voice so familiar.

"No." Cid pulled Valentine to his feet, helping him out to the living room. They sat down, blood staining the material. "I gotta go restrain him until the police arrive."

He went out into the other room. Valentine sat there, he was sitting in the same place when Cid came back, his hands clasped in his bare lap, a long coat wrapped around his form.

"Cid?"

The ex-pilot eyed off the other man. He was beautiful, no one could ever deny that, he was beyond compare.

"Cid?"

"Did you really care?"

"What?"

Cid looked up at those eyes. "The love I saw, was it real?"

The deep blush and way that he refused to meet his eyes told him it was. Cid nodded and strode forwards. His hands found Valentine's waist and pulled him to stand, moving close to look at the down turned face.

"I love you. Not yer looks, not yer gender. I love you."

Valentine's lips parted slightly, until Cid pushed a finger to them. "I wanna know, Valentine. No excuses, not yet, no reasons. Just honest to god, do you love me? Are you willing to try, despite this, despite that jackass, despite everything?"

He nodded slowly and Cid smiled, leaning up to kiss those pale red pouty lips, just like he had dreamed.

They both moved back slightly and Valentine smiled, a soft genuine smile. "Hi. I'm Vincent Valentine, and I think I love you."

Cid smiled and took one hand. "Vincent, huh? Well, I'm pleased to finally meet you Mr Vincent Valentine."

They both smiled slightly, even as the sirens were heard outside.

0

It was, in the humble opinion of Ms Lockhart, a little odd. Mr Highwind and his, friend, Mr Valentine, the tall scarred man who moved in the day the police arrested the strange Mr Hojo from 2C. Their, relationship, wasn't her business, and she wasn't sticky beaking into anyone's affairs but their close embraces and touches were a little more than friendly.

Particularly the wandering hand she was sure she had seen on Mr Valentine's posterior.

But, she wasn't one to pass judgment. After all, she had said that Mr Highwind needed to find himself a partner, someone to look after him, and if Mr Valentine was the one, then there was nothing to be done about it, though it really was a pity.

No one else really cared about Ms Lockhart's humble opinion.

Least of all Cid and Vincent.


End file.
